


Moments In-between

by oooopari



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Cute, Dilf djarin, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Son Platonic Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Light Angst, baby yogurt cuteness, din is confused lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooopari/pseuds/oooopari
Summary: Soft moments between Din and Grogu that the audience does not get to see. In-between episodes, scenes, and seasons.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & Grogu
Comments: 30
Kudos: 90





	1. When I First Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> REUPLOAD!!!!! I didn't realize AO3 allowed disgusting relationship tags for child characters and I accidentally tagged this wrong. i would NEVER write something like that, so sorry that's disgusting

Din knew he was going to kill that droid. Even as he fought alongside it, he was planning ways to take the IG unit down. Splitting the bounty was never an option, IG-11 had the skills Din needed to find the asset and nothing more. 

Yet when he thinks about the moment he fired, he cannot say that his shot was driven purely by a larger reward. 

The moment he saw the child was different from all other jobs Din has accepted. Countless bounties in countless sectors, all different species, backgrounds, and reasons for the bounty on their heads, but each with the same reaction. Every single bounty that Din has brought down has the same fearful look in their eyes, an instinctual reaction to the realization that their pursuer was a Mandalorian. But the way the baby looked at him and the droid, the fear in its large black eyes… such expressions shouldn’t be worn by a face so young. Din would not have been able to live with himself if that emotion were the last thing the child ever felt before death. So he took down the droid, only thinking of his payment after the fact. 

When he reached for the child, leather brushing against skin, some of that fear left its eyes and was replaced with quiet curiosity. Din knew then that he had made the right choice, even if the creature would be turned over to the empire’s dregs soon enough.

He walks with the child now, the metal bassinet open to the environment as it floats by his side. A risky choice, he knows. Anyone else with instructions to terminate the quarry has a clear shot right now. But the thought of the baby locked in the dark while waiting at the encampment sends pity through Din’s chest, so he set the covering to stay open and lets the baby view the sky. 

To Din, this place is a wasteland just like every other desert planet, acrid, dusty, and void of life. The only lifeforms here are ugly, twisted things, constantly fighting over limited resources just to barely scrape by. The kid is staring at his surroundings in awe, and despite Din’s reservations, he begins to see the landscape with more color. The enthusiasm the baby has is rubbing off on him. 

The kid keeps turning and looking at him though, twitching massive green ears while it observes it’s armored escort. Din feels oddly self-conscious under its watch, the growing trust in its eyes does not help to bury the thought that keeps returning to Din’s mind.  _ What could the client want with a child? _

The hiring process was undoubtedly strange. It isn’t often that a bounty comes with the stipulation of being brought in warm, most clients tend to want them out of the way no matter the method. That doctor had insisted he keep the child alive, however, that man was clearly not the one calling the shots. The other white-haired man had handled the entire exchange regardless of interruptions. In Din’s eyes, it was clear who was in charge there. The baby is still looking at him, its tiny, fuzzy head tilted in interest. Din considers closing the bassinet to escape those eyes but eventually decides that he can deal with it. How many bounties have begged for their freedom, their lives, groveling at his feet? The child’s age should make no difference to Din.

_ It’s just a quarry,  _ Din tells himself,  _ an asset to be traded.  _

The child squeals loudly next to him, startling Din into pulling his blaster and twisting around to attack the pursuer. There’s nothing. As far as he can tell, the only movement is dust blowing gently through the prickly bushes that litter the valley. He looks at the child, irritated by the way it startled him. It’s currently leaning over the opposite edge of the pram, ears pointed forward in interest. It babbles at something, reaching over to point at the ground.

“What?” He asks it gruffly, reholstering his blaster and standing with hands on his hips. The kid whips around and shrinks under Din’s glare, feeling the heat of his eyes even through the visor. He softens at this, that vexing feeling of guilt shooting through his chest once more. Just at that moment, a lizard scrambles out of a bush and runs right at Din’s boots, the kid straightening up again in excitement and squealing at the sight.  _ That must’ve been what it saw,  _ Din thinks,  _ no one is after us yet.  _

Much later, Din will wonder why he used the word “us” at that moment.

He sighs then swoops down and scoops up the lizard, holding it gently in his palm while approaching the child. Both the child and animal are gazing up at him with a puzzled look, wondering what the Mandalorian is trying to do. Din wonders that himself, but he pushes the thought away and crouches in front of the bassinet, holding the lizard up so that the baby can get a closer look.

“Just a lizard, kid. No need to shout.” The lizard is squirming in his fingers, trying to escape his grasp. The child babbles and coos at the sight, trying to reach up and take the creature from him. Din thinks about how he mentally referred to the child as a creature when he first saw it, regretting his choice of words. The lizard he holds now is alive, yes, but the clear intelligence of the child compared to the lizard sets them apart. 

He brings the lizard closer to the child so that it can touch it, reaching out with one tiny green hand to prod at the thing. It awkwardly pats at the poor lizard's head, looking back and forth between Din and the animal, making cooing sounds. It sound’s like a question so Din answers without thinking.

“It’s a Squamata lizard, looks like a young male. Gentle with it.”

Din wonders about the gender of the child, not wanting to keep calling the baby an “it”. The child's gender was not included in the information the old man gave him, age alone is the defining factor of the child. Perhaps it is a male. He would ask but it doesn’t seem to understand him, at least from what Din can tell. He doesn’t know why he’s spoken to the baby out loud. Three times now. 

Feeling peculiar about this whole thing, Din sets the lizard back on the ground and rises to his full height, watching with the child as it skitters away. Once it disappears from sight, the baby turns back to Din, frowning openly in disappointment. 

Din resists the urge to tell him that everything will be fine.


	2. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beb yogurt sleeps, din is anxious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much dialogue in this one fellas

The child has been asleep for hours. At least twenty-four hours to be exact, not that Din is counting. No, Din is definitely not counting. 

The nagging worry that itches in the back of his mind must be a leftover injury from his experience with the Mudhorn. No other reason. It must’ve crept up on him, unnoticed under the exhaustion in Din’s bones. He is having trouble keeping his hands still at the moment, an unusual reaction for the bounty hunter.  _ I must be concussed,  _ Din thinks crossly,  _ I shouldn’t be this distracted.  _

Still, whenever Din gives in and checks on the sleeping child, he finds that his hand is immediately steadier, remaining that way until his anxiety works itself back up to a peaking point. 

Kuiil works alongside Din, a fantastic partner not just for his mechanic knowledge, but because he stays silent nearly the entire time. The only exchanges that pass between Mandalorian and Ugnaught are on the topic of repairs. A tool passed here, an assisting hand there. He doesn’t press. Falling into a routine is easy, which makes Kuiil’s glances stand out all the more when Din checks on the bassinet for the third time in the hour. To his credit, Kuiil says nothing about this anxious habit, silently holding up sheets of metal for the Mandalorian to weld in place. 

Privately, Kuiil believes that this will not be the last time he sees the Child and Mandalorian together. 

Repairs wrap up quickly with Kuiils help and the Razor Crest is ready for travel within a day. Din thanks him graciously for the assistance, wishing there were more he could offer the Ugnaught despite Kuiil’s refusal to take a single credit as payment. Din is grateful for more than the repairs, but he cannot find a way to put the feeling into words. He was ready to give up the second the Jawas knocked him out and escaped in their towering Sandcrawler with the stolen parts. It was only Kuiil’s encouragement that allowed Din to power through the obstacle, gathering every piece back from the scavengers. In a way, Din wants to apologize to the Ugnaught for his shortness. But in the end, he is a man of few words, and Kuiil is not concerned over Din’s actions.

Kuiil calls out from his seat on the Blurrg. “May the child survive and bring you a handsome reward!”

Din nods his farewell, silently watching for a moment as the Ugnaught and Blurrg slowly traverse back through the cracked desert hills of Arvala-7, before he turns and shuts the ramp behind him.

With the ship in order, Din continues on his mission to hand over the asset, settling in the worn leather pilot seat with a sigh. The starship’s engine rumbles to life with a satisfying roar, blasting into the atmosphere with more power than the Crest previously possessed. Din smiles under his helmet, wishing now more than ever that Kuiil would’ve accepted payment for the help. His ship is flying more efficiently than before after the Ugnaughts skillful ministrations. However, that nagging feeling won't leave him, his happiness over the Crest stained by a persistent itch at the back of his mind.

A thought keeps coming back to Din as he pilots the Crest into orbit, one that confuses the Mandalorian. Something about Arvala-7 feels… unfinished. Deep down, Din knows he will see Kuiil again but he cannot pinpoint  _ why  _ he knows this.

Din feels like he could learn from the Ugnaught. Kuiil offered more insight than Din usually accepts from outsiders, most people who encounter him are too scared to say a word. Conversations are rare for Din, so the way Kuiil spoke to him was… enlightening. The Blurrgs were a deadly obstacle until Kuiil taught him to tame and ride them, the Razor Crest was destroyed until Kuiil suggested he trade with the Jawas, the repairs were impossible until Kuiil proved him wrong.

But the child… Kuiil did not try to convince Din that he needed to do anything with the child. But the Mandalorian did not miss the way Kuiil hoped for the child’s survival, twice he remarked on the topic. Despite his parting words, he did not seem like he was speaking of Din’s reward. There was something else implied under the Ugnaughts well wishes. For someone so forward with communication -a tone rarely used around any Mandalorian- there was a mystery in his choice of words...

A mystery Din doesn’t care to figure out at the moment. The ship is repaired and he will return the asset shortly. End of story. 

But the baby-the  _ asset  _ is still knocked out cold, curled up in the bassinet, and breathing shallowly. Its small body is still under the glow of the console lights, even as Din shakes the edge of the pram. Din’s eyes linger on the sleeping child, quick, shallow breaths rising in its chest are the only signs of life. It’s so small, it’s depth of breath should be normal for something of that size, it has to be, right? He does not want to return the quarry cold, the pram holding nothing more than a corpse. A bassinet should never double as a casket. The client assured Din that he knows bounty hunting is a complicated profession, but Din has never heard of anyone returning a cold bounty who died protecting their captor.

A bounty has never saved his life, either.

Din shakes these thoughts away. Didn’t he tell himself he wouldn’t bother to analyze any of this shit? He should focus on navigating the ship back to Nevarro, the multiple encounters with other bounty hunters have set him back far enough. Traveling sub-light leaves the ship too vulnerable even without being followed. 

Din is directing the Crest to the nearest hyperspace route when he hears a sound behind him. A soft babbling from the baby sends a wave of elation through his chest, Din wants to whip around and check on the kid the second he hears it stir. But he holds himself back, instead turning his head ever so slightly to curiously to peer at the small face out of the corner of his visor. The heat-scanning filter on his helmet tells him the child’s heart is steadily pumping blood throughout its body, a sign of good health surely. Feeling calmer than he has at any point in the past week, Din throws the ship into hyperspace, on route to land on Nevarro within a day. 

But even while Din’s eyes are fixed on the transparisteel windows of the cockpit, his mind is 2 feet behind him with the child. It’s quiet, small coos occasionally bubble up from its little bed but there is no sign of it trying to explore the cockpit. The light of hyperspace is streaking across the cockpit, bathing the small space in a ghostly glow that compliments the console lights pulsing softly under his gloves. All this light sensory feedback bounces off the silence of hyperspace, creating a rhythm that lulls him. Typically, Din would take this time to meditate, calming his body’s nervous system after being in a prolonged heightened state while tracking. But as he takes the usual measured breaths he realizes his mind is still halfway in that anxious area, unable to come down for unknown reasons. It’s the child, it has to be. Quarries don’t typically accompany him in the cockpit for long, carbonite is the safest place to store them on the journey between planets. 

He isn’t worried per se, at least not for his own safety around the baby. The usual bounty may take up his focus due to the danger that comes with housing a criminal. But Din can’t keep his mind off the child, it’s choice to save his life and the innate trust it shows to the Mandalorian. Little thing doesn’t know he is the enemy. It may be too young to sense what is going on, or perhaps it is just smart enough to guess that Din saved it’s life when IG-11 turned his blaster to the baby. He hopes it isn’t attached to him because of that.

There is a tugging sensation on Din’s shoulders. 

Whipping around, Din locks his eyes on the asset, expecting some sort of resistance from it at last. But it’s just… Chewing on his cape? It swiftly drops the edge of the fabric from its mouth, jaw open in fear in reaction to Din’s sudden movement. Moisture pools at the edges of its eyelids, black eyes glossing over with tears as it shudders silently with a sob.

Din’s heart twists inexplicably. A sickening feeling permeates his stomach as he watches the tears spill over its cheeks. Reaching out quickly with his cape, Din dabs away tears with swift movements, not wanting to linger on the child's face. The baby is still shrunken in on itself in a pitiful way, but its ears have perked up at Din’s gentle action, even if it lasted for less than a few seconds. With the child quieted and face dry, Din turns jerkily to face the windows again, surveying hyperspace. 

This time he doesn’t react to the soft tugging on his cape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mandalorewhore.tumblr.com


	3. Choices We Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bro i made myself cry also can u tell im a preschool teacher wooo #sensory

Its small body drawing in on itself. The deep frown that marred its face. The trembles that wracked its body when it laid its eyes on the Stormtroopers. The cry of dismay when the doctor led the child away.

This is what repeats in Din’s mind. For hours on end he is tormented by these images, a painful cacophony of regret that plays on a loop in his mind with no respite, no room to think, to _breathe._ He wants to run, to get away from this place, the stage that houses his sin. 

_The further, the better._

Din knows how to move on. He knows how to bury his emotions and focus on the future, because he knows innately that one cannot change the past once the consequences of choice are set in motion. The Way says no take-backs so it’s time to move on. That is why he chose the nobleman's son; high-reward and a long search is just what he needs to keep his mind off the child. Din will take every distraction necessary to forget the child.

If only he weren’t reminded of it at every turn. He sees it in the small lizards that swarm the volcanic rocks, the glossy obsidian that nearly captures the tone of its eyes, the switches in the cockpit, the ball lever it desperately tried to play with. Din is teetering on the precipice of a decision, one with an option that becomes clearer to him at every passing second. He can’t leave the kid. He would never be able to move on, not this time. 

As he slowly screws the ball back onto its lever he realizes that he never had a choice in the first place. 

\------------------------------------------

He found it. He has the baby. He has the baby with him and he can finally breathe.

It- No, _he_ seems unharmed after the ordeal he went through. Playful even. The doctor claimed to have kept him alive through whatever tests they ran on the kid and it seems he has recovered swiftly. He sits in Din's lap, chewing on the metal ball and occasionally banging it on the edge of the Crests console, giggling at the ringing sound it makes. Din winces at a particularly loud bang the baby manages to produce, the sound resonating in his helmet painfully. His ears still ring from the battle on Nevarro.

For half a second Din considers deafening himself with his helmet settings but he swiftly buries the thought. He just rescued the kid, risked his life for him, and now he considers ignoring him? It isn’t right. He will just deal with the sound for now. 

With the ship moving safely through hyperspace, Din allows himself to relax just slightly. Spinning the pilot seat to face the back of the cockpit, he stands with the child, the little green boy squeaking and laughing at the sudden movement. Din holds the child out in front of him, level with his helmet visor and just… looks at him. The kid is chewing on his metal ball gleefully, only letting it leave his mouth for a second to grin toothily at the Mandalorian. And although the ability to hide his emotions has always been highly valuable for the Mandalorian, this time around Din isn’t sure he’s glad that the helmet hides his smile. 

Maybe the kid would benefit from staying around people who can show their expressions, to give out cues and micromovements for the baby to learn from. Is he denying the child a proper life just by way of his code? Din starts wracking his brain for ways to stimulate the child's senses, to provide the proper amount of diversity in his day to day life so he doesn’t end up underdeveloped. There isn’t much on the Crest currently. He could bring the kid down to the hull and explore his options.

Din recalls that, as a foundling, his people would expose him to different environments both in and out of armor so that he would know what to expect on his journey with the Creed. To see for himself just how well their armor can protect the warriors from merciless sandstorms on desert planets all the way to biting winds in frozen wastelands. It was also a way for the foundlings to say goodbye to these senses. To bid farewell to the normalcy that others take for granted. Din hasn’t felt the kiss of sunshine for decades. 

Suddenly, an idea pops in his head.

“Hey... Hey, kid.” He clears his throat, voice cracking from disuse. He can’t recall the last time he actually spoke on his ship, except to tell off quarries. The foreign sound of conversation bounces off the metal walls with a dissonant echo, as if the Crest itself doesn’t know what to make of it. The baby coos and looks at him, openmouthed and curious. Din still doesn’t know if he can understand Basic, or any language for that matter, but he remembers learning that babies benefit from conversation even before they can speak. 

Hearing is one of the few senses that Din has the privilege of experiencing. He won’t deny the child of it.

“I have an idea for you, kid. Hold on tight.” The Mandalorian makes his way to the cockpit ladder, cradling the kid under one elbow so that he doesn’t get jostled too much in the descent. The child lets out another giggle as Din slides down the ladder, the bounty hunter landing lightly on his feet with a huff. Din sets the baby gently on the floor before crossing the length of the hull to robotically dig around in his storage, tossing useless pieces behind him before he remembers the kid is there. Flinching in alarm at his mindless action, he turns and looks for the baby hoping that he didn’t accidentally hit him with anything. The kid is just sitting where he left him, drooling on his favorite ball. 

Shaking off the uncharacteristic panic, Din turns and continues his search, quickly finding what he was looking for now that the rest of the junk is out of the way. He holds the bulky object gingerly in his arms, making his way over to the kid and placing it carefully on the ground in front of him. 

It’s a lightbox of sorts. A square shape with several settings to control the heat output, brightness, and hue of light. Something that Din uses to warm his skin when free of armor, in order to soak in the necessary vitamins that he is unable to absorb naturally outside the ship. As of now, the kid is transfixed on the object but Din can tell the box won't hold his interest for long, not while he still has access to his ball. Reaching over quickly before he can get distracted, Din messes with a few settings on the box and turns it on. Soft, golden light fills the room and the sound of birdcalls flutter up from the object. Din has never used the sound settings before, finding them frivolous, but he switched it on for the first time so that the baby could hear. 

“That's a Naboo sunset. I set it to a summer's evening.” He tells the kid softly. 

The baby’s large eyes are focused on the light, looking down at himself to see the way it bounces on his green skin. His metal ball falls to the floor with a clang but the baby doesn’t even react, instead twirling his ears and cooing at the noises the box produces. 

Din sits on the floor of his ship and watches the kid. He’s fascinated, trying to take in every detail of the moment, savoring in the way the artificial light reflects in the child's eyes, filling his pupils with a radiant glow. If Din focuses only on the baby he can imagine that there is actually a picturesque Naboo landscape behind him. The kid reacts with the level of enthusiasm he imagines it would show while visiting the actual planet. After a while the kid seems to grow more energetic, attempting to catch patches of artificial sunshine as they bounce around the hull. The little womp-rat even places his hands on the lightbox and starts to violently shake it back and forth like he's trying to break into the virtual world that the box is creating. The image is so ridiculous that Din actually _laughs_ at this, a full, rich sound that bursts from his chest in an almost hysterical explosion of energy. 

Even with all the fear Din holds, all the anxiety from being on the run, his loss of income, the loss of his tribe... Din feels that there is a place inside him that is mending. A hole he never knew existed has begun to stitch together within him, every giggle the child produces is another thread that sews the edges in place. Wherever he goes with this kid... he just hopes he can feel like this more often, no matter where they end up. 

_It’s fulfillment,_ he realizes, finally finding the word for this emotion, _showing him happiness… It brings me fulfillment._

The pair sit on the floor for hours, switching through different settings to discover all they can in the limited time they have before they must run. If the choices Din made throughout his life have all built up to this moment, weaving this small picture of the hunter and child… Then Din wouldn’t alter a single decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mandalorewhore.tumblr.com


	4. Mirroring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there will be multiple Sorgan chapters :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is lighter than the previous ones! more silliness than there is dilf pain

The kid won’t stop following Din. 

He doesn’t get it at first. If he’s being honest, he unconsciously expected to put the child down and come back to the child sitting right where he left it. The realization is slightly embarrassing. Of course, a baby isn’t going to sit nicely without supervision... even an odd baby with strange powers and the highest bounty Din has ever seen. The child isn’t dumb or animalistic; Din knows that his physical growth relative to mental growth must be far slower than other species, especially since the kid has toddler-like mannerisms yet possesses enough strength to lift a full-grown Mudhorn with his mind. 

Din tries to not think about that, it’s too confusing to consider while he juggles running for his life. The child's powers don’t lend him self-sufficiency, the kid still needs help with feeding, bathroom breaks, and keeping clean. Din is struck over and over again with the realization that this child will rely on him for, well, everything. 

Even after choosing to lose everything for the kid, the reality of his situation is overwhelming enough to cause him some anxiety. The child will continually look to him for nourishment, entertainment, and probably affection. Definitely affection. He’s already seeking that comfort with the way he looks at Din, face so full of trust that it is almost uncomfortable to witness. The kid mirrors the bounty hunter’s actions, playing with the switches on the Crest console and attempting to follow him wherever he goes. 

He stubbornly waddles in Din’s shadow even after they landed on Sorgan, making his way through the lush woods on tiny limbs. Din learns to slow his pace once the kid falls a little too far behind. 

This planet is lovely. It is such a shame that they can’t stay. Warm, late-summer light breaks through the forest canopy to speckle the forest floor as if the lightbox antics from the night before have manifested in reality. The kid is just as distracted by the real thing, chasing the sunbeams and occasionally wandering to the side of the beaten path in a manner that makes Din nervous. He feels like he could blink and the baby will be lost in the underbrush. Once they get back to the ship Din will sit him down and have a chat about that habit. Hopefully, the little one will understand well enough to stick closer to him on their next excursion. 

He pauses in the shadowy path, smiling when a small bump at his ankle tells him the kid is keeping pace. He looks down and meets the baby’s dark eyes, the emotion within them is feverishly excited. The child babbles and points into the trees, swirling his hands around with an animated flair to gesture at everything and nothing. Din guesses he is trying to describe the woods. The bounty hunter crouches down and listens attentively to the kids ranting, his large dark eyes so emotive that the language barrier is all but eliminated. Both the baby and Mandalorian nod and look around with exaggerated motions, the child's excited attitude rubbing off on him. Din doesn’t want to interrupt the moment but he knows they need to keep going if they want to make it back to the ship before dark. They’re still being hunted. 

The bounty hunter straightens with a heavy breath, settling his hands on his hips. “Come on little one. It will be dark soon.” The baby clutches Din’s calf and keens, a high whining sound that plucks the man’s heartstrings. The poor child is having so much fun here. For the millionth time, Din wishes that they could stay on Sorgan. If the baby weren’t under his care then he would just take down the shock trooper and claim the planet for _his_ hideout… Unfortunately, that would bring too much heat onto the pair. 

Din tries again to convince the baby, raising his voice an octave to sound more excited, hopefully, it will catch the kid’s attention. “I’ll give you a treat when we’re back. How’s that sound, huh?” 

It works, he thinks. The baby perks his ears up and lets out a curious coo, backing up from Din’s legs and looking down the path. Din smiles again then starts up his pace again, a little faster now that the sunshine has taken on a deeper hue. 

They make good time, traveling several miles before dusk falls and the forest lays in shadow. It is a bit eerie now, bird song and animal calls have all but disappeared with the daylight. The only sound now is the rustling of leaves, insect buzzing, and an occasional breeze howling through the trees. Din flicks on his night vision setting and walks faster, forgetting in his haste that he needs to make sure that the child is keeping up. 

Seconds later, a twig snaps and Din whips around, the sound is just too loud and heavy for the kid to make. There’s nothing behind him, no movement in the woods, no footprints or body-heat register, and the path is clear. Everything is fine- _Wait._

The path is completely clear.

The kid is nowhere to be seen. 

Panic floods Din’s body, intense, choking pressure crushing his limbs and chest with enough force to rip the air out of his lungs. The sensation is akin to being sucked into space, although Din would take that fate over the current fear that overwhelms him. Hunter’s instincts take over as his body moves automatically to search the trees, prowling the space around him while his mind watches numbly from afar. It’s odd, he feels like a specter observing from behind the veil, unable to control his actions. The trees blur together, choking panic becoming harder to ignore with every second that passes in his search. 

He finds his voice. “Kid!” It comes out all wrong and hollow as if it were the cry of a stranger instead of Din’s voice. “Kid, where are you!?”

He ducks down to the forest floor, laying on his stomach and looking through the thick overgrowth at the child's eye level. Din hopes that the lower perspective will help him figure out where to look next, searching desperately for any eye-catching areas that may have drawn the kid. Unfortunately, nothing is out of the ordinary. Not even a suspicious twig.

Din sighs shakily and rises to his knees, about to give up and start grid searching when something catches his eye causing him to flatten once more. There was a flash of body heat on his current visor setting, the reddish-orange mark alarmingly vibrant against the darkness that surrounds him. Whatever produces the heat is only a few feet away, snuffling around a felled tree for its next meal. The fuzzy form is too big to be the kid, and if it eats meat then it may pose danger to a child the size of Din’s foundling.

Din doesn’t think before he launches himself at the creature. 

It shrieks as he lands heavily by its side, his hands shooting out to snatch the animal, a rodent, and flip it over, praying that its species is inclined to being herbivores. His answer comes in the half-eaten bark that tumbles from the rodent's mouth as it lets out a shriek, its wide mouth lined with round teeth and eyes dilated in fear. Din lets the creature go, his stomach tight with fear for the child and guilt for scaring the creature. It skitters away to its den, unharmed. 

The Mandalorian deflates, leaning forward until the forehead of his helmet rests on the forest floor. There is an empty place shredding inside of him, a place that was quickly woven by having the child at his side. It falls apart just as quickly. 

Din should’ve found him by now, a baby that young can’t hide so well as to lose a seasoned hunter. He'll go back to the settlement and scout out potential kidnappers, running the Guilds database program and comparing faces until he recognizes the culprit. Before that, he should scan the area again, just in case. Maybe the baby crawled down a den with one of those rodents. Din screws his face up in despair, turning to settle his temple onto the dirt before opening his eyes and-

There, in the hollow of the felled trunk, are two staring black pupils twinkling at him from the dark. A giggle bubbles up from the kid’s mouth, soft white bark spraying in every direction as he laughs.

Din is fucking furious. 

\------------------------------------------

Children's laughter fills the air like a symphony, fitting perfectly against the background noise of bird song, tittering parents, and working krill farmers. Din’s foundling runs on short legs to keep up with the human children, jumping as best he can to swat at hovering butterflies that tease the excited crowd. He fits in perfectly here, the happiest Din has seen in the short time they’ve been together. He should leave him here once the Guild calms down in a few months. 

Din flinches from inside his hut, the thought hurts too much to consider.

That will be months from now anyway, he doesn’t _need_ to think about it. The only thing he should be concerned about is scouting the woods with Dune later, searching for the raiders that plague this community. For now, he can peacefully sit in his temporary lodging and observe life on Sorgan. It is a gentle one and, try as he might bury it, Din appreciates gentle things. 

“Ow! Hey, he hit me!” One of the village’s children stands clutching his arm, glaring at his female friend who glumly scrapes the ground with a shoeless foot. 

“I did not! It was the new kid.” The accused girl shoots back, pointing fervently at the little, green foundling who is standing agape in the crowd. “He did it!”

Din straightens at her accusation, annoyance rising from his chest to heat his cheeks. _Does she think she’ll get away with the lie?_ He thinks hotly.

His kid- _the_ kid is too short to even reach any of their shoulders, let alone hit them. How dare she accuse the baby. Adjusting his helmet, Din stalks out of the hut and approaches the children, ready to defend the child against all offending claims but the other adults reach the group first. He recognizes Omera and freezes when she shoots him a sharp look, her eyes speaking wordlessly. _Don't make this worse._

“What happened here?” She asks in a firm, clear tone, pulling the three children closer to her and crouching to their eye level. The baby is transfixed, his mouth still hanging open as he twists his ears curiously at the woman. “Use your words and take turns please.”

The hurt child, named Kaigo if Din remembers correctly, huffs loud enough for Din to hear from where he stands 20 feet away. Kaigo raises his chin and looks down his nose at Omera before answering her. “Winta wanted to catch the butterfly first but I’m taller than her and gooder at catching bugs, so she _hit_ me. The baby is too short to even hit me!”

Din nods. _Damn right he's too short. And the kid doesn’t hit._

“Better, not gooder,” Omera gently corrects Kaigo, brushing away a strand of hair while tersely turning to Winta, her daughter. “Winta, is this true? I’ve taught you about using your words before actions.” Winta seems to be fascinated by the dirt ground, kicking her foot and refusing to meet her mother’s gaze. 

Omera tries again, “Winta, look at me please.”

“Fine! I did hit him. But everyone is obsessed with the new baby and Mandalorian, and I wanted to catch a butterfly so that everyone will like me again!” The little girl chokes up at the end of her confession, falling into Omeras lap with her arms wrapped around her mother. The baby makes a distressed sound and places his little hands on Winta’s knee. 

Din takes this as his cue to join them, long strides leading him across the clearing in mere seconds. The baby runs up and hugs his ankle when he spots the Mandalorian while Kaigo retreats to his friend group with wide eyes locked on the warrior. A hush falls over the children in his presence, as the setting sun behind Din lays his shadow over their huddled group. Everyone seemingly holds their breath. The loudest sound is Omera’s soothing hand patting Winta’s back. 

Din leans into one leg feeling awkward, he doesn’t know how to address the little ones firmly without scaring them. After a few tense moments, he clears his throat and turns to Winta.

“I like you Winta. You have been very kind to the child.” The words come out halting and none too graceful but he means it, Winta and Omera have gone out of their way to welcome the bounty hunter and child, bringing him food and playing with the baby with open arms. Omera lends him a gracious smile when he speaks, a lovely sight that sends warmth throughout Din’s chest. Her daughter peeks from her hiding spot in Omera’s elbow, teary eyes stubborn and flashing in the sun. 

“You don’t mean it.” She shoots back, harshly drawing her eyebrows together on her young face before burrowing into her hiding spot once more. The widow sighs and stops her soothing pats, stretching her arms above her head wearily. Din’s eyes catch on the curve of her neck then dart away, busying himself with picking up the baby who has started up a babble at his feet. 

“Mando is _nice,_ Winta. He’s helping us get rid of the raiders which he wouldn’t do if he disliked you. Come on,” she pulls the little girl upright and turns her reluctant body to face Din. “He’s helping us, sweetheart.” 

One of the young boys interjects, from the gaggle of children. “Yeah! He’s a good guy!” 

Din nods at the boy then tries copying Omera’s earlier actions by crouching to the height of the girl, extending one glove to Winta while the other keeps the baby held against his cuirass. “I promise. Shake on it. Bounty hunter shakes are very serious.”

Petulant eyes meet his own through the visor and he sucks in a startled breath, taken aback by the perceptive look. Most people tend to miss his eyes, always just slightly off enough to leave Din feeling unseen. The physical barrier of beskar leans into an emotional one as well. He’s noticing now that the children don’t miss his eyes as often. 

Winta slowly reaches out and grips his finger, shaking up and down so seriously that Din wants to laugh. He holds it back knowing it would only hurt her feelings more, instead, he says, “there. your very first guild contract.” 

Omera laughs softly and stands, picking Winta up off her lap and spinning her onto her back, child limbs wrapping around her slim figure like a spider. “Winta is not allowed to hunt bounties, sorry.”

“Shame. She is very skilled. _Especially_ when it comes to catching butterflies.” He tilts his helmet knowingly at the little girl, who grins proudly back at him before remembering that she is supposed to be upset. Din smiles at her stubbornness, holding the foundling out to her to try and appease the attitude. Winta smiles and hesitantly holds the baby’s hand while he babbles and wriggles his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, frowning slightly in a way that seems self-directed. “I shouldn’t have lied. I like you. And I’m sorry Kaigo!” She shouts the last part to her friend. The baby laughs and starts flapping his arms, looking between his friend and the butterflies that still flutter just above the villagers. Winta squeals in delight and takes him in her spindly arms, hugging him tightly as he continues to imitate the colorful creatures. 

It’s so silly that even Din laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mandalorewhore.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> mandalorewhore.tumblr.com


End file.
